


One Smith to Another

by SunflowerSupreme



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Abuse, Celebrimbor and Maeglin but make it sad, I am incapable of writing happy Maeglin, M/M, Multi, Torture, dub-con, fallen banners, non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 09:09:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21966934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunflowerSupreme/pseuds/SunflowerSupreme
Summary: Captured by Sauron, Celebrimbor makes an unexpected friend.
Relationships: Celebrimbor | Telperinquar/Maeglin | Lómion, Celebrimbor | Telperinquar/Sauron | Mairon, Maeglin | Lómion/Sauron | Mairon
Comments: 10
Kudos: 57





	One Smith to Another

**Author's Note:**

> I saw  the soft animal of your body by harp_of_gold and that reminded me that this is a ship. 
> 
> So I made it sad. 
> 
> Whoops.

Celebrimbor leaned his head back against the wall of his cell. He was half tempted to call out to his tormentor, to try to goad the Maia into killing him, but Sauron had shown himself to be smarter than that so far.

When the door finally opened, he was prepared for anything the Maia could throw at him.

What he wasn’t prepared for was an elf.

Celebrimbor drew back, watching his visitor in silence. There was something oddly familiar about him, although he was certain they’d never met. It was something in the set of his jaw, or his high cheekbones, or perhaps his dark hair.

But mostly, there was something about him that made Celebrimbor feel as though he’d taken a sudden dip in a basin of cold water.

The mystery elf stopped in front of him, kneeling down. “Are you alright?” he asked gently. He reached out and ran his fingers through Celebrimbor’s hair, a soft smile on his face.

“Do I look alright?” Celebrimbor asked.

“No,” said the stranger.

He released the shackles that bound Celebrimbor to the wall, then rubbed his wrists with calloused fingers. “Don’t worry,” he said. “Master won’t mind if I patch you up.”

“Who are you?”

The elf paused, then offered him a sad smile. “Haven’t you guessed?”

* * *

The next time the visitor came, with a tray of food, Celebrimbor was ready. “We’re related,” he said.

“Yes.” He handed Celebrimbor the tray, letting him gulp down his first decent meal in months.

“You have the hands of a smith.”

“Yes.”

“You betrayed Gondolin to Sauron.”

“Yes,” said Maeglin.

* * *

Celebrimbor’s gut told him not to trust Maeglin. He’d always been told the elf was dead, but since he clearly wasn’t, there was a reason for it. It seemed the elf was still working for Sauron.

But there was something else lurking under the shadows. Maeglin was quiet and gentle, nothing at all like Celebrimbor had expected of him, and he seemed hyper-aware of his surroundings, as though expecting the Maia to jump out at him.

What struck him most, was when he would visit with black eyes or bloodied lips.

“Did your master do that?” Celebrimbor snarled. He hadn’t seen the Maia since his capture, but he knew the creature was still around.

Maeglin nodded, pressing a hand to his eye as though he’d forgotten it. “I misbehaved,” he said slowly.

Celebrimbor reached out, pulling Maeglin’s hand away, and carefully touching the bruise. “Does he hit you often?”

“Only when I’ve earned it.”

* * *

The more he saw of Maeglin, the less he understood him.

It seemed the smith was his caretaker, and, without fail, he always asked where the Rings were. But he never pressed, and seemed truly interested in Celebrimbor more than the Rings.

He would sit and talk with him for hours, sometimes bringing parts of his projects to the cell to discuss them.

One day, as they were leaned over a diagram, arguing over how it ought to be made, Maeglin kissed him.

Celebrimbor kissed him back.

* * *

Sometimes when Maeglin visited he could forget he was in a cell.

The former prince would laugh and smile, although he seemed almost afraid to make so much noise, and curl into Celebrimbor, hiding his face in his shoulder, muffling the noises.

When he limped to Celebrimbor, covered in lash marks that he claimed to not remember receiving, the captive bathed and stitched his wounds.

* * *

It took months - or what felt like months, Celebrimbor had no way to keep track of time - until they moved beyond kisses.

Celebrimbor was the one to initiate it, deepening the kiss and sliding his hand to cup Maeglin’s crotch. When the elf didn’t stop him, he slipped his hand in his trousers and groped his balls.

The next thing he knew, Maeglin was on his back begging for more.

That time they only rutted against one another, moaning and gasping until they climaxed.

When Maeglin next visited, he brought oil and begged Celebrimbor to take him. “I want a gentle partner,” he’d begged, and Celebrimbor found that he couldn’t resist.

* * *

He enjoyed wringing cries from Maeglin, holding the smith’s hands so he couldn’t cover his mouth, making him cry out in pleasure.

“Master hates noise,” he would say, and Celebrimbor would take him in his mouth until he screamed himself hoarse from pleasure.

It was days like that they Celebrimbor began to forget where he was and why.

* * *

Maeglin grew more bold over time, sneaking Celebrimbor first to the forges, then into the small room he lived in next to them. It was warm from the fires, and dark to protect Maeglin’s eyes, and felt more like home than it had any right to.

They would fuck on Maeglin’s bed, and then he would let Celebrimbor steal a few minutes of sleep before sneaking him back to his cell. “You could stay,” he would say as he shut the bars. “If you told master where the Rings are, I could keep you.”

“I can’t do that,” Celebrimbor would reply.

Strangely, Maeglin seemed to understand.

* * *

Maeglin was sprawled on his back on his bed, his legs spread and his ass just at the edge of the mattress. Celebrimbor was pressing inside him, listening to him squeal and gasp.

Then Maeglin’s face darkened.

Celebrimbor didn’t have time to ask what was happening before a cold hand was on his waist, wrapping around him. But it didn’t pull him out of Maeglin, instead, Sauron pressed his cold lips to Celebrimbor’s neck and murmured, “Fuck him harder.”

He tried to pull away, cold fear filling his belly. But when he looked at Maeglin, to apologize or find support, all he saw was hunger.

“Maeg-”

Sudden pain ripped through him, and he screamed as Sauron entered him with no warning, ripping his anus open and slamming him into Maeglin.

But the smith only grinned more, reaching out to pull Celebrimbor forward. “Fuck me,” he told him, flashing a grin.

But Celebrimbor could only weep.

It wasn’t only from the pain as Sauron used him relentlessly, spilling into him and then abandoning him, throwing him on the floor like a rag doll and moving to fuck Maeglin as though he’d only just started. The pain came from realizing he’d been betrayed.

He couldn’t move as Sauron took Maeglin, couldn’t take his eyes off the sight of him leaning into the blows the Maia bestowed on him.

“You lied,” Celebrimbor rasped from the floor.

“I never said I didn’t like it,” Maeglin laughed, spilling across the sheets. “Come now cousin, where are the Rings?”


End file.
